


Nervous Hands

by nightram



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-21
Updated: 2014-09-21
Packaged: 2018-02-18 04:48:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2335895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightram/pseuds/nightram
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The life of an apostate is not an easy one. Bethany Hawke is well aware of the price her family has paid time and time again to keep her safe. She will forever be uneasy when walking with her sister and companions within the walls of Kirkwall under the ever watchful eyes of the Chantry.</p><p>A collection of short pieces on Bethany's life in Kirkwall Act 1 focusing on her interactions with Hawke and other party members, and her personal musings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hightown Marketplace

Bethany was always nervous when walking around Kirkwall. The life of a “free” mage was one of continuous discomfort and uneasiness be it strolling in public with a conspicuous stave or in a temporary home after being displaced times before in effort to outrun suspicion. She always looked twice before turning corners; remembered the face of every Templar in excruciating detail so she’d know from a glance whom to not pass. She found herself picking at the hem of her tunic.

Her father, Malcolm Hawke, was a mage like her who did not live within the confines of the Circle of Magi. He had escaped from Kirkwall some time before Bethany had been born in the neighbouring Ferelden. He’d taught her to control and gave her the tools master her “gift”. These were his words; Bethany likened it more to a “curse”. She found shame in what her magic had forced upon her family.

Although Kirkwall had Bethany feeling more anxious than before with the tightening vice the Templar Knight-Commander held on the resident apostates, she took disquiet comfort in the companions her elder sister had acquired.

Today was a quiet day, so far. There had been little in the way of physical altercations; most of the errands being simple delivery runs of items the eldest Hawke had collected throughout their recent travels and budgeted purchases of much needed gear upgrades. 

However this wasn’t the only reason things were quiet. Bethany had a keen ear for listening, but she was not blessed in the skills of conversation. As much as she liked to learn and understand the people around her, or simply share a well-meant observation, she found herself walking into awkward exchanges more often than she’d like. She herself did not see them as such nor understood why people found them to so artless, but she had grown to understand that the confusing subtle expressions those around her adopted when she had breached some kind of unwritten cue in one way or another and opted to return to silence. 

She hated how poorly her meager existence reflected on her family.

She didn’t understand how her elder sister, Hawke, so effortlessly began and maintained a friendly dialogue, let alone be so astute in keeping a relaxed lack of with the people about her. What Bethany wouldn’t give to be “normal” like her. It wasn’t time to reflect on that right now.

Hawke led her charge to the bustling Hightown bazaar, the harsh sunlight causing her to raise her hand to shield her eyes as the group made their way down the cobblestone stairs. Bethany felt slight panic rise in her throat as she approached the body of people. She glanced to the apostate beside her, Anders, who held a noticeably rigid posture. She wondered if he worried about being in the open for the same reasons she did.

The fair skinned guardswoman Aveline was watching Bethany when she turned her gaze to her. She gave the young mage a reassuring nod; that she was not alone, and there were people here to protect her. Aveline was never entirely settled on where the youngest fledgeling stood in the seemingly rigid ideals she held on the importance and necessity of the Circle, and always felt quietly challenged by Bethany. She’d never willfully tip-off the Kirkwall Templars to the apostate’s location, Maker no, she loved and respected Hawke’s family too much to ever conceive of doing such a thing, but still she shared the Chantry’s nervousness on the topic.

Being sure to stick close to Hawke as the well armed warrior weaved her way through the throng, Bethany nervously played with the thread of her tunic while counting her breaths. She keenly observed every face that passed them by.

“Sister,” she leans in to Hawke’s ear, not wanting to speak louder than the chatter of the crowd, “will we be here long?”

Hawke turns to her with a warm smile and stops, placing her gloved hand on Bethany’s shoulder. She immediately sank in shame for what she felt like was making this simple excursion about her.

“I will be as quick as I can,” the elder smiles and gives a reassuring squeeze. “Don’t worry, I won’t keep us here any longer than we need.” This does not wash away Bethany’s guilt.

“Bethany, I’ve been meaning to ask: how is Leandra?” Aveline interjects. Bethany does not know if this is an attempt to distract her from her anxiety, or simply the guardswoman choosing now to strike up this line of conversation.

“Mother says she is well. Although I do not entirely believe her.” the mageling sighs with brows drawn together. She wants to add her own thoughts on her mother’s disposition; that she is utterly miserable.

“I doubt she will ever recover from the unexpected loss of her family’s estate.” With a shrug, Aveline pats Bethany on the upper arm in endearment. “It’s okay to be worried.”

“I’d really like us to put the earnings from our expedition into the Deep Roads towards buying back the Amell estate,” Bethany admits, “Mother talks about her childhood home a lot. I’d like to give it back to her if it means she would be happier.”

Drawing her coloured lips into a thin line, Bethany’s frown deepens as her mind wanders back. Her fingers bunch together her old tunic. “It’s been especially hard for her since losing my brother. Father too.”

She doesn’t know how, but the confidence in her voice and the keen look in Aveline’s eye is all it takes to convince Bethany for now when the older woman holds her gaze and tells her “All will be well.”


	2. Darktown Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's an early morning when the party gathers together for an expedition to the Wounded Coast. Anders inquires regarding Bethany's schooling in magic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dialogue taken from one particular exchange between Anders and Bethany in Act 1.

It is still early in the morning and the crisp fog of dawn has not yet risen from the stale earth crunching under Bethany’s worn boots. Hazy wet grey blankets of cloud form droplets on her bare shoulders. She pulls up the fallen sleeves of her shirt.

They are making their way out of putrid Darktown, Hawke, Bethany and Anders. Having collected the healer, the group had one party member left to find before leaving to journey down the Wounded Coast. Isabela said she would meet them at the city gates.

Bethany loved it when Anders joined them on their expeditions in and around Kirkwall. The older man had lived in Ferelden, just like her and her family, and he too was a mage living outside of the Circle. He wasn’t the happiest she had ever met, but he had many experiences that would forever fascinate her. 

She liked to ask him about his time in the Circle and about the Fade spirit he has invited into his mortal form, but he tended to speak in very clipped sentences and with a tight jaw when she inquired. Sometimes he seemed happier to discuss them; usually when Hawke was involved in the dialogue. 

Bethany wondered if it was because Hawke made him feel safe, like how her sister made her feel.

The ex-Warden usually kept to himself; rarely went out of his way to engage with the others. Shadows continually haunted his mind whenever there was quiet among the charge. Bethany was momentarily taken aback when he spoke up while they ascended the rickety flight of stairs.

“Where did you learn your magic?” he asks with a quirked brow. He has his hands buried under his arms to warm the aching joints. 

Bethany looks to him, her attention pulled from counting the steps she cleared. Hawke’s interest is piqued by the sudden question, also.

“I mean,” Anders continues with a puff of steam gathering before his lips, “you know my feelings on the Circle, but usually it’s the only decent training a mage can get.” Sometimes his native accent catches on his open vowels. It fascinates her.

Bethany notices her sister slow in pace and watch her with ebbed sadness. “My father taught me,” the young mage announces in hushed tones, careful to not wake those sleeping as the party wanders into Lowtown. “He was in the Circle one, trained there.”

She smiles at Hawke. “But he got away.”

Anders watches Bethany with an unreadable look in his eyes. He is silent, but the muscles in his jaw work as if he intended to speak. He takes in a cold breath before softening his tired features.

“You don’t know how lucky you were,” he admits, his tone coming across more harsh than he intended, but truthful to his heart. 

“To have someone who loved you and could help you. Most mages would kill for that.” He ignores the pitiful twinge on the eldest Hawke’s face, and the one mirrored by the younger of the two.

“You remind me of him,” Bethany states with a genuine beam and looks to her sister who gives a convinced nod in agreement.


End file.
